Whips.Chains.
Torture.
Yael had experienced all of these until he turned into one of the exclusive servants like Hosea had said. He, along with the other males, was forced to be silent and obedient. Yael instigated himself to redraw from reality and let silence take over him. The silence was his refuge from the agony. From the pain. From the h.e.l.l he was put.
Hosea was different, though. He was always smiling and was chirpy. He was the only one who can smile at the Lady and could muster to even speak. Hosea told Yael he was Lady Damian"s first exclusive servant, which is why she treated him differently. It wasn"t fair from the start, but Yael was used to it. He knew Patriargë was long fallen. He knew that she was right. He was born low, and he will always be a lowly filth for the rest of his life.
Every servant was given a different purpose. But Yael had it worse. He was the Lady"s torture bag. He was "beautiful" for her. And what made him different from the other servants was his physique. Although they all possessed each distinctive look—Yael knew he was the only one larger his age. His muscles were toned and he was, compared to them, looked more mature.
Yael"s tan skin was filled with scars from the spiky whip; his hair was disheveled from her harsh clutches, and his mouth was silent from her inhumane conditioning. Yael was the provider of pleasure—and ebullience may be evoked from torture, and torture alone. The other servants had their own, specific purpose that Yael did not know. And he wasn"t sure he wanted to know. Besides, he was the only one who received such scars. He knew he would"ve had the toughest. But who was he to judge others on how much pain they received from Lady Damian? He wasn"t in any place to compare. They were all her unfortunate servants. Her dogs.
It was not fair for anyone, but Yael had to bear with this newfangled perdition. How can he escape her? No. HOW in the world will he even escape the country he was born in? Why did he even hope of being saved? He was in Patriarge. A nation that was long fallen. A place that had long-chained him since infancy. He was born in here, and will die here.
Yael . . . was h.e.l.l-bound.
Or so he thought.
It took him a year to endure the pain and the lady"s tortures. But the children he had rescued were living well and were healthier than they have ever been in the slums. Lady Damian never hurt them, and Yael saw to her that she never will. As long as Yael could see those children smiling, he will be fine with it. He will accept no matter the torture. He will withstand no matter what her cruel plays would be.
"I don"t want you anymore. You five." The lady said after she summoned all of them to her office.
"I"m marrying Marquis Castello. I don"t want him to find that I"m playing with filths. No, I don"t want him to see me even being affiliated with you all. Begone from my sight."
That word sent Yael into yet another downright inferno.
They were knocked unconscious, and before they even knew it, they were being transported into a cargo ship. Lady Damian had sold them into a trader that would sell them to Lofthim—a country in the Western continent, Kurbeln. The "exclusive servants" were fetched with a high price; and on the way of the transport—they were starved, stripped off their tailcoats, and were treated like dirt as opposed to what the traders referred them to. "Precious goods"
And that was the time an unexpected savior arrived to save Yael.
Who would have known that he would be able to escape from the inferno his birth had given him?
**
Speaking about his life was hard—given the fact that Lady Damian had trained and tortured him to submission. For the span of a year, Yael was tormented to abidance. It made him almost mute, unable to speak his own thoughts. But Yael felt like he had to tell her. Tell the guild master what happened. She was empathic until the end, but she did not question anything more. She was just there to give support; Shey never pried nor did she look at him with pity.
She just listened until the end.
"You"re free now. You are the master of your own fate." Shey exclaimed. "I know you may feel powerless now. But I will help you."
"Help me . . . ?"
The guild master nodded.
"Yes. I will help you get stronger. This guild will help you regain that freedom back. To help you save those you have left."
Those words were the ones that empowered Yael.
**
"We"re off now to the dungeon!"
"I can"t believe we"ll be off and help Yael with the Vessel!"
"Kuuh! I can"t believe that we"re doing this dangerous quest!!!"
"I"m kinda excited and scared at the same time."
Yael and his party trained for a month in preparation for the dungeon quest. It was what one could call a h.e.l.lish training that helped the team push themselves to their limit. The day they went into the dungeon, the guild members and the guild master herself went to see them off.
"BRING VICTORY TO BOTH ALARIS AND PATRIARGE, YAEL!"
"We"re all rooting for all of you!"
"You can all do it!"
"Always remember what the book taught all of you!"
"When you become a possessor of Wahid"s Vessel," says Shey. "You will be an indisputable force that would push your homeland to change!"
**
"What are you saying, Yael?!" Ephraim exclaimed.
Yael tightened his grip around Ephraim"s shoulders.
" You can still do it, if it"s you. You led no one to their deaths and attained the key to the vessel," says Yael. "You are the one who"s worthy, Ephraim."
"No," Ephraim answered. "I"m not worthy or anything like that. I don"t even have anything to do with this vessel. Whereas you, you battled your way here. And now you"re just throwing all that effort away and giving the stranger like me that one thing you want?! I won"t agree to your terms of using yourself as a bait just to let me escape. Did you really think I would just agree to your plans?!"
Yael closed his eyes.
"I know you wouldn"t."
Yael stormed away and came back to the gigantic necromorph. He unleashed an outcry as he advanced towards the giant monster. Yael tried to put up a fight, but the necromorph was able to seize his whole body.
Yael grinned. It looked like a tremendous decrease in morale affected Yael more than he could have ever thought.
"When you become a possessor of Wahid"s Vessel," says Shey. "You will be an indisputable force that would push your homeland to change!"
Yael turned his head to Ephraim, who was in front of the large, opened doors. Yael knew his death was coming, but he mouthed the words nonetheless.
His last words.
First, there was a tremendous amount of pain as crimson-colored blood dabbled from Yael"s neck down to the necromorph"s grasp.
Second, followed death.
And then . . . silence.